


Presque Vu

by purplenighttime



Series: long way home [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Gen, Loss of Identity, Post-TWS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 06:52:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1460011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplenighttime/pseuds/purplenighttime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows he should recognize her, but he doesn't know from where. </p><p>"Are you here to kill me?" he asks. </p><p>"No." There's a pause, then, "Steve Rogers is looking for you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Presque Vu

He’s in Brooklyn, in a brownstone across the street from where James Barnes grew up. It’s a row of shops now, and all that’s left of the original building is a plaque marking the childhood home of Captain America. He still can’t remember ever being here, although he wonders if the memory will come.

It’s been a week since DC, and from what he remembers, about two weeks since he came off the ice. He remembers things now, things he wishes he doesn’t. He remembers another mission, where he tracked a French diplomat to his vacation home on the coast, then put a bullet in his head in front of his wife and two young children. He remembers disposing of the four bodies.

There are flashes of other missions, though not enough to put anything together. He remembers an exploding car, falling down the side of a cliff, putting a bullet in someone’s heart as his bodyguard protected him with her body.

He can’t remember names, and the faces are blurry, but he’s beginning to remember everything he’s done.

Something makes him glance towards the open door, and catches the faintest shadow moving toward the room. There’s someone else in the apartment. Whoever it is, the fact that he can’t hear them move indicates they’re well-trained. Not likely to go down without a fight.

Then again, neither is he.

He slips behind the open door, waiting for the intruder to enter. When she does, he steps forward quickly, wrapping his arm around her throat and pulling her back. She fights back – there’s a knife in his thigh before he realizes to block the strike.

It stings, although he’s too disciplined to react to it in any way except to tighten his grip. But he’s unbalanced now, and she rolls forward, using his own weight against him. He falls on his back, winded, as she crouches into a defensive stance.

He evaluates his opponent.

She’s got two pistols, an assortment of knives, some kind of charged weapon on her wrists, and given the nature of her weapons, knows how to handle herself at close range. The best way to end this would be with a bullet.

Before he can fire the gun, she kicks it out of his hand and pulls him down to the ground. He rolls as he falls, landing on his back instead of his stomach, and blocks her knife strike with his mechanical arm. She fights against his grip, and he uses her distraction to roll so he’s on top of her. It’s simple enough then to press his arm against her throat, hard.

The loss of oxygen does its trick, and her movements slow as she gasps for breath. He pushes down harder, wanting to finish it. But as he leans forward, the fog clears and he sees her face for the first time.

It’s familiar, and he doesn’t know why. Of course he recognizes her, from DC, but there’s another, fainter memory there too. It doesn’t matter. The shock of recognition is enough to make him back off.

She’s with Captain America.

Against his better judgment, he turns away and looks out the window, feeling sick. He’d almost killed her, and he hadn’t even been trying.

Maybe that’s all he’s good for anymore. From what he can remember, he’s had enough practice.

“ _я пришел один_ ," she says.

He understands her, although he never remembers learning the language. He never remembers learning German or French either, but somehow he knows that he'd understand those languages too.

He also knows she’s lying. There’s a shadow of a sniper on the building across the street. She brought backup.

“Are you here to kill me?” he asks in English.

 _“_ No.” There’s a pause, then, “Steve Rogers is looking for you.”

Steve Rogers – that’s Captain America, he remembers. James Barnes and Steve Rogers had been best friends more than fifty years ago. Now, even if he is James Barnes, he doesn’t know what he is to Steve Rogers anymore.

He remembers the mission, remembers very nearly succeeding in killing the target.

_You’re gonna have to kill me. I’m with you till the end of the line._

Whoever he is now isn’t the person Captain America remembers. Turning away from the window, he walks toward the operative, close enough that they’re face-to-face.

“And why are you here?”

He goes to sit in one of the armchairs by the fireplace, putting his head in his hands. There’s a fire in the electric hearth, but the only thing he feels is cold.

Behind him, he hears the operative step forward.

“ _вы начинаете вспоминать_.” The statement – it isn’t a question – is in Russian, and something about her voice and the language stirs a deep memory.

Not as deep as James Barnes, but deeper than anything else he’s found so far.

“ _немного._ ” He surprises himself with how honest he is. He hears her walk around to face him and looks up into eyes that, oddly, are understanding. Again something itches at the back of his mind, like he should know her.

“ _вы знакомы_ ,” he says.

“I was on the causeway when you took out Sitwell.”

Those memories had come back first – the thrill of nearly achieving a mission, of pursuing his targets. The confusion – _Who the hell is Bucky?_

“No, from somewhere else.”

There’s a long silence before she nods.

“ _Красная комната_.”

The Red Room. He doesn’t recognize the name, but it doesn't necessarily mean she's lying. Especially since he barely recognizes himself when he looks in the mirror. And she is familiar, even if he can't bring up any memories of her other than DC.

“Why can’t I remember you?”

The question, in English, is out before he even realizes he’s speaking aloud, and the part of him that is still the Winter Soldier stiffens at the show of weakness.

“You’ll remember. It just takes time,” she says, her voice quiet. It occurs to him then that maybe they’ve sent her ahead to break down his guard, to take him into custody. Yet there’s a strange honesty to her words, as if she knows what she’s talking about.

“Are you here to bring me in?”

“Not unless you want me to,” she says. “But like I said, Steve Rogers is looking for you.”

She says it as if it’s a foregone conclusion that he’s going to be found again, that it’s just a matter of time. And the one thing he knows is that if Captain America is anything like the books he’s been reading, he is not the friend that Steve Rogers thinks he is.

He thinks for a minute. Thinks of the things he does remember, the missions, the thrill he’d felt when he completed an assignment. Thinks about how he threw up the first time the memory of the French diplomat appeared.

When he turns around, the room is empty. There’s a cell phone on the table next to the chair, and he opens it to see there’s one contact – Natalia.

**Author's Note:**

> Given Natasha's past in the comics, I figured that just because she didn't bring up the Red Room doesn't mean it didn't happen. (And what can I say, I find the dynamic between the Winter Soldier and Black Widow really fascinating given their history.) 
> 
> The title, "presque vu", refers to the failure to retrieve a word from recall despite the feeling that retrieval is imminent.
> 
> Translations:  
> я пришел один - _I came alone_  
>  вы начинаете вспоминать - _you're starting to remember_  
>  немного - _a little_  
>  вы знакомы - _you're familiar_  
>  Красная комната - _the red room_


End file.
